The online home of the self-published comics & prose anthology, Warrior27, an homage to Britain's early-80s comic magazine, Warrior - along with the various writings, musings, and miscellany of Dan Fleming and Chris Beckett.

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Monday, June 27, 2016

Comic book publishers love their big, round numbers. 100 issues, 200, 300, 800—these are
milestones worthy of celebration, most often marked by oversized issues with
major story developments for our beloved characters, while sometimes including
bonus material, such as extra short stories or pinups from noteworthy creators
in the field. My favorite anniversary
issue, as well as one of my favorite comic books, period, is Superman 400,
which I wrote about for W27’s 400th post. But the first anniversary issue I ever
picked up was The Incredible Hulk 300.
And it was awesome.

As far as anniversary issues go, this Hulk comic is a
benchmark. It is the culmination of a
multi-part story arc from creators Bill Mantlo and Sal Buscema that dynamically
changes the status quo for Bruce Banner and his alter-ego, the Hulk, in a
super-sized climactic issue that has tons of guest stars. And this comic is packed with action and
drama—if overwrought, at times, in the classic Marvel tradition TM—from
cover to cover. I chose well, when I
picked this off the stands, and, in achieving its secondary objective, this
story spurred me to start picking up the Incredible Hulk series on a regular
basis.

Being the final part of a major storyline, one might assume
this would be a difficult issue to read, lacking the context provided in
previous chapters. But in recently
re-reading Hulk 300, I never found myself lost, and could easily see how a neophyte-me
would also have been able to follow the story with ease. It’s obvious, from page one, that the Hulk is
on a rampage—exposition from bystanders gives a fuller context: that the Hulk
had recently come to be seen as a hero, that his beastly nature had been curbed
by an ability to retain Banner’s knowledge while in Hulk form, and that,
somehow, he’s now reverted to the mindless beast he’d often been—and that the other
heroes must stop him, lest the Hulk devastate New York and its citizens.

Mantlo & Buscema also provide ample introductions for
all the heroes who come together to battle the Hulk, with clear visuals and
[sometimes overly] detailed descriptions of their powers. It is a master class in how to write a comic
book that is welcoming to both long-time fans and brand new readers—if still in
that classic, overwritten manner. That
said, Bill Mantlo is a deft enough wordsmith that—not unlike Larry Hama’s
writing for G.I. Joe in this same time period—it does not bog down the momentum
of the story. Mantlo’s hyperbole is purple
and lush, but it manages to toe that fine line, rarely falling into what feels
like parody. He’s not quite on a level
with Alan Moore, whose purple prose contemporaneously dripped off the ink-soaked
pages of Swamp Thing, but his lexicon and turns of phrase are engaging and
entertaining, adding to the overall feel of the story. It’s impressive.

The art in this issue is pretty great too. Sal Buscema, a legend in the business, known
for his work on a myriad of titles, is not a favorite artist of mine. Certainly, his storytelling is clear and his
ability to hit deadlines laudable, but Buscema’s art lacked the dynamism and
distinctness that his older brother, John’s, art has in spades—at least, to my
eye. But with this comic, the solid base
Sal Buscema provides with his pencils is brought to vivid, dynamic life with
the inking of Gerry Talaoc. Where
Buscema’s solo work is epitomized by his utilization of heavy blacks for the shading
and definition of his characters, Talaoc feathers the heroes in this comic with
hatching that imbues the figures with more three-dimensionality and a better
realized musculature. With few
exceptions [Todd McFarlane being one of them; yeah, McFarlane], the Hulk has
never looked better, or more menacing, to my eye.

Getting back to the actual story—the climax, one of the most
difficult things to do in storytelling, is completely satisfying. After S.H.I.E.L.D. and Thor and the Avengers
and Power Man & Iron Fist have failed to stop the rampaging Hulk, Dr.
Strange conjures a spell to send the Hulk off to another dimension, where he can
no longer threaten Earth. New York City
is saved, but the guilt of failing to help their old comrade weighs heavily on
the heads of these heroes. In the end,
nobody won, except for the readers. This
issue was a celebration of the Hulk’s long publishing history that also marked
a new direction for the character, a near-perfect anniversary issue. And, it was a damn fun comic to read.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Years back, Peter Rios (if my memory’s to be believed) started a thread, at the old CGS forums, asking people to share the comic artist who best epitomized any given character, for them. Neal Adams might be your Batman artist (or possibly Berni Wrightson), Kirby (or John Byrne) your FF artist, Jerry Ordway (or Curt Swan) your Superman artist, Marie Severin (or Herb Trimpe) your Hulk artist. It was a great thread that really got to the heart of why we, as comic fans, love and collect these stories—sometimes to an obsessive fault. The conjunction of personal taste in art and affection for a particular character engenders a very specific attachment for us readers, which can lead to interesting and illuminating conversations. (So, please feel free to share your own in the comments and kickstart this dialogue)

I have long held that Superman need not be overly muscled,
in his depictions in comics and film, and would argue that it is more
“realistic” for him to be lean and agile rather than a Mr. Universe type. Superman’s power comes not from a
hypertrophied physique but from the energy imbued within his cells by Earth’s
yellow sun. Not that he wouldn’t be
muscular, but it isn’t necessary for the character as conceived, and it is more
interesting, visually, if Superman circumvents the typical body type of male
superheroes in comics.

Certainly, there have been a number of artists to draw this
icon of the four-color world, and they all brought their own personal style and
sensibilities to the character, resulting in varied body types for the Man of
Steel. But the most iconic
visualizations of Superman—by Curt Swan & Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez in the
comics and Christopher Reeve in film—have tended toward this leaner body
type. Which may be why I prefer the
leaner Superman as a template.

That being said [written], “my” Superman would definitely
have to be Jon Bogdanove’s version.
Feeling like an updating of Wayne Boring’s Superman, Bogdanove’s was
BIG, with huge muscles. And yet, it
never felt as if he overwhelmed the panel or the scene, at least not in a bad
way. Bogdanove’s Superman was powerful,
epitomized by Bog’s particular delineation of Kal-El, and it made for some
dynamic imagery.

During Bogdanove’s lengthy run on Superman: The Man of
Steel, which coincided with Bog doing some of the product art for ancillary
Superman merchandising—notable for the fact that Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez was
pretty much the only artist providing DC Comics merchandising art for decades—he
made his home in Maine, on Monhegan Island.
This afforded me a number of opportunities to meet Bogdanove, and his
enthusiasm for the character was obvious.
(Bog named his son Kal-El) And
that enthusiasm was infused into the character and the comic, while Bogdanove drew
it.

Bogdanove’s Superman is a statue, cut from marble, come to [printed]
life. Bog’s Superman is solid, an
irresistible force and an immovable object, all at once. Ultimately, it’s his use of shadow and the
thick lines for hatching—which help to define his Superman as a three-dimensional
hero on a two-dimensional plane—that has always stood out for me (shout out to
Dennis Janke, Bog’s longtime inker on Superman) and which still remains burned
on my memory as the epitome of the Man of Steel.